An Unexpected Meeting
by HollytheKitty
Summary: The summer before fifth year, Hermoine and Draco bump into each other-in a surprising place. Originally a one-shot, now expanded.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just a random one-shot I wrote about a month ago. Hope you like it. Please Review!_

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><p>Draco slumped in his seat, an expensive dragon skin armchair. He knew his mother was angry, but how much, he didn't know. All his life she had fawned over him, spoiling him, giving him everything he had ever asked for. But ever since father's arrest she had gone off the deep end, muttering to herself and crying in her sleep. Draco knew he should feel sympathy for her, but he couldn't deny he wasn't at least slightly repulsed by her behavior. After all, it wasn't how a Malfoy—not to mention pureblood—should act, as his parents had so wisely taught him fifteen years prior.<p>

The look on Narcissa Malfoy's face scared her son. She had put up with him year after year, his pompous behavior, and his tactless insults. She wanted to discipline him, but to no avail. He reminded her so much of her husband, and she couldn't get herself to punish him because of it. But the fight had been the last straw. Fighting with the Weasley boy like that! It was barbaric, fist fighting with him—Ronald?—like a common Muggle, not the dignified heir to the Malfoy estate that he truly was. And in a public place! What would people think of them? Their reputation had been going down the drain ever since Lucious was sent to Azkaban. Yes, this was the final straw. She just hoped it would make a difference.

"Your behavior was unacceptable." She reprimanded.

"Yes, mother." His response was so robotic, so toneless, that Narsissa knew he hadn't meant a word of it. She knew what she had to do, even if it did go against everything her family stood for.

"You are to get a job." She told him, dreading his reaction.

"WHAT?" He yelled. She winced; she hadn't expected him to be so loud.

"You are to get a job." She repeated with a sigh.

"But-but _why_?" He whined, hoping his tantrum would change his mother's mind.

"You need to mature, Draco." She explained. "You're fifteen, almost sixteen; I can't have you breaking rules and disrespecting authority simply because you want to everything to go your way."

"But I don't need a job for that!" He protested. "I'll stay away from Potter and Weasley, okay?"

She gave him a grim smile. "I'm afraid that won't have any lasting effects." She said to him. "No, you're going to need some responsibility. Just for the summer, though, I don't want it to interfere with your studies at Hogwarts."

"And where do you expect me to get this job?" He demanded, sadness turning to anger. "No one hires fifteen-year-olds in the Wizarding world!"

"Who said anything about it being in the Wizarding world?" Narcissa asked her son. "There are plenty of jobs out there in the Muggle world."

"You want me to work with filthy Muggles?" Draco asked incredulously. "I'd never do that!"

"But, I'm afraid, you don't have a say in the matter." Narsissa said, ending further discussion. It was true, willingly cooperating with Muggles was considered traitorous in her family. But with Lucious in Azkaban, he had no way of knowing Draco's summer activities.

"Tell me when you've found one." She told her son. "I expect you to be hired by the end of the week." She didn't know how long it took to find a job, but figured a week was more then enough time.

Draco fumed silently as he strolled—well, marched, really—down Rosewind Street. He had been wandering around aimlessly for the past hour, cursing her mother in his thoughts for making him do this. How was he supposed to find a job in the Muggle world? He knew nothing about being a Muggle! The strangle looks he was getting for his emerald robes further proved his point.

Rosewind Street was part of the town center of a Muggle village near his manor. Lined with plants, the busy street contained all the necessities of the growing village-market, bank, clothing store, and restaurant. Across from him, and old bookstore opened, the owner putting up a sign that read: **NOW HIRING**-_Only two positions availible! Limited experience needed._

Perfect, Draco thought, crossing the busy street. The bookstore was built out of dark brown wood, broken and damaged in places. It had to be at least fifty years old, with its worn out _Hugo's Book Emporium_ sign.

Draco entered the shop, wiping the dirt of his shoes as a bell rang from behind. There were isles and isles of bookshelves, all black wood, all in need of serious repair. The green carpet had faded to dull gray, and the wallpaper was peeling off. It was the kind of place Draco despised, rusty and ready to collapse, but he went to the cashier's desk anyway. Nowhere else he had gone had had hiring signs, and Draco wanted to get it over with as soon as he possibly could.

The man at the cashier was in his fifties, his hair graying and falling out. He dressed causally, a sweatshirt and jeans. Draco wondered if this was Hugo, or if the shop had been named after someone else, possibly the man's father. It was clear the man was the manager of the store, since there were no other employees in the building. In fact, he and Draco were the only ones to be found in the store.

"Excuse me…" Draco started, unsure how to begin.

"Looking for something, kid?" The man asked him.

"I saw the sign on the door." Draco stated. "I was wondering if you would give me a job?" He asked hopefully.

The man stared at Draco, at his wizard's robes. After a few minutes of silence, the man said, "I guess so. Not many people are offering, to be honest. But if you're willing to work diligently, from nine to four, then sure." He said. "Pay's given at the end of the week. Can't give you much, though. You can start tomorrow."

"Okay." Draco responded, turning to leave.

"Oh, and kid?" The manager asked as Draco pushed the front door open.

"Yes?"

"You might want to ditch the funny clothes."

Draco made his way home, hoping that his mother had calmed down enough to call this whole thing off. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case.

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><p>Hermoine set down her book, <em>Standard Book of Spells, Year Five<em>, on the coffee table beside her. She had finished all of her homework within the first week of summer vacation, and had been rereading her old textbooks so she wouldn't forget anything. She desperately wanted to go to Diagon Alley and buy the books for next year, but her parents were currently in Ireland, visiting some family members. They had left Hermione alone in the house for the next two weeks, and Hermione was determined to show them that they could trust her. She loved pleasing people, even if Ron and her classmates made fun of her for it.

Ron... She had crushed on him for years since they met, but those feelings had been dying ever since the Yule Ball. He had shown just how nasty he could be about jealousy that night, and it had completely disgusted Hermoine. She didn't like being around jealous guys, and Ron definitely fell under that category.

Hermione entered Hugo's Bookstore and looked around. She loved the bookstore ever since her mother had first taken her there when she was nine. Even though some turned up their nose at the shop's fraying appearance, Hermione still went frequently during the summer.

Hermoine glanced over at Mark, the current owner and manager of the place. His dad had founded the bookstore, and Mark had taken over when he passed away. There were no other employees at the shop; the business was so slow, it wasn't necessary. However, Hermione had noticed a hiring sign outside.

"Hello, Miss Granger." Mark greeted.

"Hello." Hermoine replied. "Are you still hiring people?"

"Yeah." Mark answered. "Looking for work?"

Hermoine nodded. "Just for the summer."

"That's fine." Mark told her. "Store probably won't last any longer."

"That's horrible!" Hermione said, shocked. She hadn't realized business was so bad. Mark just shrugged.

"I'm just thankful it lasted this long." He said. "Anyway, see you tomorrow morning."

Hermoine said her goodbyes, and then left the shop.

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><p>Hermoine entered the shop the next morning at nine o'clock. She went to the reference section, as Mark had instructed her, and began sorting them. It was easy but dull work, and after ten minutes she heard footsteps behind her. Assuming it was Mark, she asked, "Yes?"<p>

But the person definitely wasn't Mark.

"Hello, Mudblood."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Decided to write another chapter. Enjoy! Read and review!**

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><p>"Malfoy?" Hermoine turned around, surprised. Her astonishment quickly turned into disgust. "What are you doing here?" She asked. "You do realize this is Muggle property, don't you? I thought this kind of thing was bellow you."<p>

"What, talking to filth?" He questioned. "That's just something I have to deal with, whether I want to or not. After all, I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Hermoine ignored his last comment.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?" She repeated. "I highly doubt you went all the way here just to insult me."

"Smart-ass as always." He said tonelessly. "If you must know, I work here."

"You're joking."

"Afraid not, Mudblood." He glanced at the bookshelves. "As far as your comment about me going 'all the way here,' as you put it, the Malfoy estate is actually quite close to here. As mentioned before, Muggles, unfortunatley, cannot be avoided." She frowned. She lived near the Malfoys? That was a fact she did not like to think about. She alphabetized the books in front of her, taking out a few that didn't belong in the section and putting them in a pile next to her. After a few minutes she realized Malfoy was just standing here.

"Do you plan on helping me anytime soon?" She asked aggravated. He sneered at her.

"Mudblood Granger, asking for help? I thought you were too perfect for that."

"If we're co-workers now-assuming that you were lying about that-I don't really have a choice. And you shouldn't be talking, you're the one always cowering the back of someone bigger and stronger then you, relying on them to keep you from getting hurt-"

"Oh, don't pretend as if you understand me." He snapped at her. "Just because I'm not an idiot enough to go waltzing into danger like you Gryffindors doesn't mean I'm-"

It was her turn to cut him off. "Going off about school rivalries again, Malfoy? Why don't you just give it a rest? I'd be perfectly fine co-operating with other houses, but you lot are so stubborn about it."

"With good reason." Malfoy muttered, though Hermoine didn't hear him. Or at least, she pretended she didn't. She examined his clothes: a turquoise button down shirt, green denim pants and hiking boots. She held back a laugh.

"Nice clothes." She said, raising an eyebrow at him. He glared at her.

"It's not my fault you stupid Muggles dress so weirdly." He replied stubbornly.

"You might think it's weird, but I felt the same way about wizards when I first went to Diagon Alley." She sighed, and noticed what he had said. "Why did you call me a Muggle? I'm a witch, even if my parents aren't."

"You might as well be." He responded.

"That doesn't answer my question, Malfoy." She pointed out. "I don't understand why you're such a blood fanatic; what have Muggles done to wizards that are so bad?"

"How about burning us to stakes?" He offered.

"Oh, that didn't harm us, and you know it!" She told him. "It's like all prejudices: stupid and pointless."

"Well, since you've got it all figured out, why are even asking me? I thought you knew everything?" He looked at the pile of books she had made. "What're those?" He asked.

"They're books that were placed in the wrong section." She answered. "And I never claimed to know everything, you made that up. I just like learning. I honestly don't see what's so bad about that."

"It's not the learning that's annoying, it's the fact that you insist on rubbing how smart you are into other people's faces." Malfoy replied.

"But I don't try to!" She told him. "Unlike you, I actually attempt to act decent to other people!"

"Look, Mudblood-"

"Don't call me that!" She snapped and marched to the front of the store.

Mark looked up from his desk and saw her. "Everything okay?" He asked. "I heard someone yelling back there."

"It's nothing... Nothing important, anyway." She assured him. "Malfoy and I were having a disagreement about something, that's all."

"You two know each other?" He asked. She nodded.

"We go to school together. We're in the same year." She answered. "Unfortunately." She added a moment later.

"Don't get along?" He asked.

"You have no idea." She sighed.

"Say, does he always dress funny? He was wearing a robe yesterday when he came in." A robe? Did he not care at all about the Statute of Secrecy?

"Uh, sort of." She answered slowly. Malfoy's wizarding clothes would definitely have seemed 'funny' to Mark. "Oh, sorry, I should get back to work. I doubt Malfoy's doing any work."

"Well, I'm trusting you to make sure he is." Mark instructed her. Hermoine nodded. "Also, keep the arguing to minimum."

"Of course." Hermoine said, and then turned around and walked back to the bookshelves.

"Had a nice chat?" Malfoy sneered. The bookstore was small, so he could've heard her voice easily from where he was sitting.

"You need to work if you want to get paid." She pointed out to him. "In the Muggle world, there are no House Elves to do your biding."

"I don't have a House Elf, thanks to your friend Potter." He told her. "And though it may shock you, I actually am capable of doing work." He gestured to the pile, which was now half the size as it was before. He looked at her. "Though it pains me to ask... Can you help me, Mudblood?"

"I will if you agree not to call me that." she responded.

"Fine." He agreed, though she could tell it was unwillingly. "What do we do when we're finished?"

"We move on to the Fantasy section." She answered. "Whether you like it or not, Malfoy, we're going to have to work together for the next couple weeks."

"Trust me, I'm aware."


	3. Chapter 3

"Malfoy," Hermoine began hesitantly. "Er, if you don't mind me asking, why did you get a job? Wouldn't your parents give you money if you asked for it?" _After all, they're constantly spoiling you, _Hermoine added silently in her head.

"It's not really a matter of money." He told, though didn't go any further then that. Hermoine decided not to ask any more.

"Oh, okay." She said awkwardly. Being around him outside of Hogwarts—in the Muggle world, no less—felt weird. Uncomfortable, even.

"What about you? Why'd your parents make you get a job?" He asked, sounding bored. They rarely got costumers, so there was an awful lot of sitting around involved.

"They didn't _make_ me." She explained. "They're traveling abroad, and I wanted some extra pocket money."

"You got a job _willing_? Why?" He asked, looking at her as if she was from another planet. "At fifteen, I mean. Seems unnecessary to me." She shrugged.

"It doesn't hurt to have some extra experience." She said. "Plus, I've already finished my homework for summer, and I don't have much to do."

"You've already done your homework? Term just ended!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"I like to get it out of the way as soon as possible." She told him. "Though it may shock you, I don't actually like homework. I don't think anyone does."

"Well, at least we agree about something." Malfoy muttered. They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, they heard a loud crash coming from the front of the shop. Hermoine jumped.

"What was that?" She asked no one in particular.

"Nothing good." Malfoy pointed out. He walked to the front, and Hermoine followed closely behind. "There." Malfoy pointed to one of the bookcases. The third-to-last shelf had collapsed, leaving all of the books it carried scattered around the floor.

"Oh, great." Hermoine sighed. "Now what do we do? Even if we pick up the books, we need somewhere to put them."

"Can't we just use 'repairo'?" Malfoy asked. Hermoine shook her head.

"No underage magic, remember?" She reminded him. "This isn't worth getting in trouble with the Ministry."

"Well, how to Muggles fix bookcases?" He asked, sounding impatient.

"Well, the shelf pretty much snapped in half." Hermoine explained. "You can't really fix that, you have to replace it." She looked at the bookcase. "This is a very old bookcase; the other shelves will probably break eventually from the weight."

Malfoy snorted. "Oh, please. Books can't weigh that much."

"You'd be surprised." Hermoine walked to the cash register where Mark was sitting. "We have a problem." She told him.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked, frowning.

"One of the shelves broke; what do we do?" She asked.

"Let me see." He stood up. Hermoine showed him the bookcase. He stared at it for a minute, and then instructed them, "Find place to put the other books. They'll be out of order, but there's not much we can do. After closing, I'll go to the hardware store and see if I can find something to help repair it." He walked back to the front, and Malfoy and Hermoine were left to pick up the books.

"Why is everything here so old?" Malfoy asked her.

"It was his fathers'. That's who the store is named after. Some of the furniture has been here for years." She explained.

"Why doesn't he just buy new stuff? This place looks like it could collapse at any moment." He asked.

"Money issues." She said. "Mark said he's probably going to close the store for good soon."

"What's he going to do then?" He asked. Hermoine shrugged.

"Find another job, I guess." She looked around. "It's sad. This store must really mean something to him if he's kept it for so long."

"Weird." Malfoy muttered.

"What?"

"It's so weird." Malfoy explained. "Hearing about money problems. My family never had that trouble."

"I'm surprised you're not mocking Mark for it, that's what you do to the Weasleys." Hermoine said bitterly.

"Defending your boyfriend, are you?" He asked snidely.

"Ron is not my boyfriend!" She snapped. "And even if he was my enemy, you shouldn't make fun of people for that! It's not their fault!" She glared at him. "I don't understand why you have to be such a git all the time."

"At least I'm not like you, thinking everything in the world is wonderful and great." He shot back. "There are bad people out there."

"Yeah, people like your dad." She said. Malfoy's nostrils flared.

"Don't make comments like that about my father!" He snapped at her. Hermoine just laughed.

"You're such a hypocrite, Malfoy!" She told him. "Why is okay for you to treat people rudely, when you threaten to curse anyone who insults you or your family?"

"Because—because—" He sputtered.

"See? You can't even defend yourself!" Hermoine pointed out.

"Oh, shut up, you filthy Mudblood!" Malfoy yelled at her.

"_Don't call me that!"_ Hermoine shouted back.

"Do you really think I'm going to listen to you?" Malfoy asked. He dug his hand into his pocket, ready to take his wand out, when Mark appeared.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" He asked them. "Why are you two shouting?"

"It's nothing." Hermoine lied. She scooped up a few books from the ground. "Really."

"Yeah." Malfoy said.

"Maybe you two shouldn't be around each other." Mark suggested.

"Fine with me." Malfoy muttered.

"No more fighting." He told them sternly. "This is a bookstore; I shouldn't be able to hear either of you from the front. If I do, it will not be good. Got it?"

"Of course." Hermoine agreed. Malfoy simply nodded. He walked back to the front. Hermoine went in the other direction, without even looking at Malfoy.

He picked up a book and shoved it on the bottom shelf. He thought of what Hermoine said about him not being able to defend his opinions. Well, why should he? He wasn't a hypocrite… was he? No, he decided. Listening to _Granger, _the _Mudblood,_ of all people, wouldn't get him anywhere.

Nowhere at all.

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><p><span>AN: Hope Malfoy doesn't come off to OOC in this chapter. Review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

The next week passed by slowly. Costumers came in, costumers came out. Mark fixed the bookshelf. Both Malfoy and Hermoine found themselves increasingly bored at work—the only difference was that Hermoine didn't want to admit it, while Draco had no problem.

Sometimes she would use the cash register while Mark was out—this way, she could at least have a conversation with the people that came in. Malfoy kept to himself mostly, trying to keep his thoughts inside his head instead of saying it aloud. Hermoine and Draco avoided each other as much as they could, not wanting to get into more trouble. They had been working at the bookstore for almost two weeks when Malfoy found himself in a bit of a sticky situation.

"Hey, Malfoy." Malfoy looked at Mark, who had his hand on the front door. "Work at cash register for me, okay?" Malfoy nodded absent-mindedly. He sat on the chair behind the counter, looking out the window. It wasn't until someone walked through the door that he realized a problem.

"Granger!" He hissed at the girl sitting on the floor. She looked up.

"What, Malfoy?" She sounded tired.

"Help me with this—this Muggle contraption!" He asked her, panic in his voice.

"Shh!" She shushed him, afraid one of the costumers would hear—them hearing words like "Muggle" wouldn't lead to any good. Still, she got up and went to the cash register, and showed Malfoy how to enter prices into it. "Don't wizards have cash registers?"

"Yeah, but they open and close it using magic, not these weird buttons." He answered, opening and closing it. "Your stupid machinery goes haywire around high levels of magic." He frowned. "Why do Muggles use paper for money anyway?"

"It's not just paper, it also contains—"

"Whatever." He cut her off. "It's confusing. Why can't they just stick to coins?"

"That's just their preference." Hermione answered with a shrug. "I'll explain the values of each, if you want."

"Why can't you just do this?" Draco asked. "You're the Muggle born!"

"Mark doesn't know that." Hermoine reminded him. She paused. "Why did you get a job in the Muggle world? I know you were raised in the wizarding world, but why can't you at least _try_ to learn about their culture?"

"I told you—my parents made me." Draco replied. "My mom probably didn't consider any of this."

"Then why did she make you?" Hermoine asked. She saw the look of annoyance on his face. "Sorry." She muttered. Draco stared at the cash register. After a few minutes in silence, he finally answered,

"She said I needed to mature. She said that I needed to be more responsible."

"Oh." Hermoine answered. She tried to think of something positive to say. "Well, you've managed to work with Muggles for two weeks without constantly insulting them. That's an improvement." Draco wasn't convinced.

"I'll be happy when this whole thing is over." He muttered.

~.~

Five o'clock in the afternoon, Malfoy left the store more annoyed then ever.

"I hate this." He said out loud. He frowned, looking across the street at the grocery store, where a little girl was staring at him like he was some kind of freak. "Why is everyone staring?" He asked, not realizing he had also said it out loud.

"It's because of your robes." He turned around. Granger was standing there, closing a brown messenger bag she had brought to work.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" He demanded from her, suddenly angry. "I didn't want this job! I didn't want to be here! It's bad enough I have to come here everyday, and now I get stares at me wherever I go! It's not _my_ fault—they're filthy, who are they to judge anyway?" Granger was glaring at him. Great, he thought sarcastically. Now she's mad as well.

"Don't call them filth, Malfoy." She told him. "_You're_ the one who shouldn't be judging." She pointed to the store. "You're mom can't tell if you go to work or not—just quit. It'll make things easier for everyone." She marched off onto the sidewalk, leaving Malfoy alone. He looked back at the grocery store—the little girl was gone. Still frowning, he walked back home, unsure as ever of what he was supposed to do.

~.~

Hermoine woke up to the sound of hooting. Frustrated from work, she had flopped down on the couch, wondering how she was supposed to deal with Malfoy. She hadn't realized she fell asleep.

It didn't take her very long to figure out where the hooting was coming from: Pig, Ron's owl, was zooming around the room, a letter attached to him leg.

"Pig!" Hermoine called. The owl swooped down onto the kitchen table. Hermoine took the letter off, and read it:

_Hey, Hermoine! I was wondering if you could come to the Burrow next week? Dumbledore's bringing Harry from the Dursleys. Have your parents come home yet? Please answer soon._

_Ron._

Hermoine raced into her room and looked at the calendar: August 3rd. Her parents were coming home tomorrow. _So I don't have to worry about Malfoy after all, _She thought. She could quit her job the next morning. She grabbed a roll of parchment and quill and wrote her reply.

_Thank you for the letter. No, they're not back yet. I think I can come; I just need to ask them first. Either way, I'll see you soon._

_Love from Hermoine._

Things were finally looking up.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I have officially no idea where I'm going with this story. Thanks to those who reviewed, favorited, and alerted. Please review, I know this chapter was a bit shorter then the other ones.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm baaaack! Not going to lie, and I'm getting bored with this story. I don't want to abandon it, though. I'll try to wrap it up in the next couple chapters. Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites. Y'all are awesome, especially those willing to wait this long for an update.**

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><p>"Hermoine!" Hermoine felt her insides bunch together as an unseen forced tackled her from above. Alarmed, her eyes shot open as she searched for the source of this apparent attack. "Good morning, sweetie." Hermoine relaxed as she laid her eyes on the women perched at the edge of her bed. It was only her mother.<p>

"Hello, mum," she greeted. "What time is it?"

"About three in the morning, I think." Hermoine groaned. She didn't mind waking up early—in fact, she was usually one of the first to awaken in her dormitory—but this was too early for her taste.

"What?" Her mother asked, feigning annoyance. "Not happy to see your own mum after weeks away?"

"Of course not," Hermoine assured her, even though she knew her mother was merely joking. "I missed you, mum. You and dad."

"Good." Her mother smiled. Hermoine loved seeing her mother smile. "I'll make breakfast."

"Already?" Hermoine asked, surprised. "It's only three!"

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm starving," her mother said. "Airplane food simply isn't that filling."

Sitting up, Hermoine realized she _was_ hungry, too. "I'll help."

~.~

"How is everything going with your job so far?" Narcissa asked her son. She attempted to run the comb she was holding through her son's hair, but he swatted it away.

"I can do it myself," he stated and took the comb. After a pause, he said, "It's pointless. Nothing I'm learning is going to benefit me. Once I'm out of Hogwarts, I'll start working for _him_."

"You don't know that," Narcissa pointed out quickly. She didn't like the idea of her only son working for the Dark Lord. It was stressful enough with Lucius in Azkaban. She didn't need to worry any more. "The Dark Lord might not need you for a few years, when you have more experience."

"And where am I supposed to get that experience?" Draco shot back. "Hogwarts, with that loon for a Headmaster? The Ministry?"

"Our side could always use spies at the Ministry," Narcissa pointed out. She knew there were plans in the works to take hold of the Ministry, but she couldn't tell her son that. Those matters were strictly confidential, shared only in the highest ranks of the Death Eaters. "Where _are_ you working, anyway?"

"Just some stupid, run down book store," Draco answered. "The place is on the verge of collapsing in on itself."

Narcissa frowned. That didn't seem safe. But it was probably another one of her son's ridiculous exaggerations. He was probably trying to convince her to take back her punishment.

"Well, good," she told him. She checked the old clock on the wall. "Shouldn't you be at work now?"

"It's my day off," Draco explained. He set the comb on the table, and left the room.

~.~

"Next week?" Mr. Granger looked up from his book. His wife had always hated it when he read at the table, not that it stopped him. Like his daughter, he was a bookworm at heart. He read anything he could get his hands on. He loved the interesting facts of nonfiction, as well as the fantasy world of fiction. He had been absolutely delighted when he was told his daughter was a witch, when he realized the truth of many of his favorite tales. Well, once he got over the initial shock, anyway.

"Yes, dad," Hermoine said. "I always go to the Burrow before school begins."

"We know, sweetheart," his wife responded. "But we just got back. Don't you want to spend time with us?" Even though she was doing her best to hide it, Mr. Granger could see the disappointment in his wife's eyes.

"Yes," he agreed. "We hardly see you. You see your friends everyday at school."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry I don't get spend much time here, but it's not safe. The war just started, and it's getting worse everyday." Hermoine had explained the situation with them a year prior.

"But wouldn't it be safer here?" He asked. "Around here with the—what do you call us? Muggles?"

"Yes," his wife agreed. "The wizards wouldn't care about a small Muggle town, would they?"

"There have been Muggle killings in the past few weeks," Hermoine explained. "The Death Eaters kill and torture them for fun. It's not safe anywhere but Hogwarts. And since I'm associated with the Order and with Harry, they're all the more likely to attack here. I'm trying to find a way to protect you, but right now, we're extremely vulnerable."

Mr. Granger and his wife exchanged worried glances. Murders, simply for the sake of twisted enjoyment? It was sick and repulsive to even think about.

"And the Burrow… it's safer there?" He asked slowly. His daughter nodded.

"They have enchantments there to ward off unwanted visitors." She explained. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are both knowledgeable in defense. It's not impenetrable—nowhere is, really—but it better then here."

Looking at his daughter, Mr. Granger could tell she was scared. He knew she was doing what she thought was best. And really, all he wanted was her safe.

But he still wanted her stay…

"How about a compromise?" He suggested. "You can go to the Burrow, but not until next Friday. That way, you still have some quality time with us."

Hermoine smiled. "Okay."

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><p><strong>Review! Please?<strong>


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